


Xingese Lessons

by Blissymbolics



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, cute shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:06:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29420571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blissymbolics/pseuds/Blissymbolics
Summary: Edward arrived ten minutes late of course, and didn’t even bother giving an excuse. He just slid into the booth and slammed a piece of paper down in the middle of the table, causing Roy’s coffee to jump.“You can read Xingese, right?” Ed asks, but it’s more of a statement than a question.Ling sends Ed a cryptic letter, and they have to scour all of Central to find someone who can translate it.
Relationships: Edward Elric/Roy Mustang
Comments: 6
Kudos: 126
Collections: RoyEd Valentine Gift Exchange 2021





	Xingese Lessons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ghostlyeris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostlyeris/gifts).



When Ed invited him out for breakfast on a February morning, Roy had to wonder what could possibly be urgent enough to compel Edward Elric to show his face in public at the ungodly hour of eight o’clock, in freezing cold weather no less. They agreed to meet at a small restaurant a couple blocks from headquarters where officers often congregate for cheap lunches and decent coffee. Edward arrived ten minutes late of course, and didn’t even bother giving an excuse. He just slid into the booth and slammed a piece of paper down in the middle of the table, causing Roy’s coffee to jump.

“You can read Xingese, right?” Ed asks, but it’s more of a statement than a question.

Roy looks down at the paper he so courteously plastered to the table. “A bit, yes. I can read it better than I can speak it.”

“Perfect, what’s this say?” Ed slides the sheet of paper to his side of the table. Roy sighs and picks it up, even though it’s way too early in the morning for this type of interrogation.

The paper is thick and sturdy, and was clearly sent rolled rather than folded. He didn’t even know the mail service accommodated letters like that. The writing is in dense black ink, but it hardly resembles the Xingese Roy knows from books and shop signs. In fact, it looks less like a written language and more a piece of abstract art. The lines are lyrical and flee-flowing, beautifully blending together like rivers running down the page. Roy thinks he can maybe recognize the character for ‘you,’ but beyond that, he’s at a complete loss.

“What is it?” he asks, hoping for some context.

“A letter from Ling,” Ed replies, just as the waitress passes by and pours Ed a cup of coffee. “I told him I’ve been studying Xingese, so of course the bastard wrote back in it just to screw with me.” Ed dumps at least a day’s worth of sugar into his coffee, then takes a sip without even stirring.

Roy nods and scrutinizes the paper further. He stares at it for maybe ten more seconds, skimming the columns to see if any of the characters jump out at him, but no dice.

“If it’s any consolation, I think he wrote this in the most abstract calligraphy possible just to mess with you.”

Ed huffs in frustration. “Yeah, that’s what I figured. Can you make out any of it?”

Roy shakes his head. “Sorry, I can give you maybe one or two characters, but that’s it. You could stop by the consulate and see if anyone there can decipher it. If it's a letter from the Emperor, then I'm sure they'll help you out.

Ed nods and rolls the letter back up, then stuffs it in his pocket, clearly granting it all the respect he thinks it deserves.

“Yeah, good idea. But first, I need some eggs.”

He flags down the waitress and they give their orders. Roy has to be at the office in forty minutes, but things have been slow recently. He can afford to dawdle a little while.

“By the way, 你學興文多久了?”

Ed stares at him blankly. “What?”

“How long have you been studying Xingese?” Roy translates.

“Since I got this letter,” Ed replies before stuffing half a potato in his mouth.

Roy smiles. So he lied to Ling in the first place. Hardly surprising.

“I see. How long before you leave for Xing?”

“About a month.”

Roy lets out a short laugh. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Xingese isn’t the kind of language you can learn in a month.”

Ed shrugs. “I got by fine enough with Cretan.”

“We’re in the same language family as Cretan. And no offense, but your Cretan is politely passable at best.”

Ed gives him a dirty look. It’s funny how genius is rarely an all-encompassing trait. Ed may be one of the most brilliant alchemists in the country, but his aptitude for learning languages is probably no better or worse than that of the average person – a discovery that certainly did a number on his pride.

“Maybe I’ll pay someone to give me a crash course before I leave. You free?” He skewers a piece of sausage and sticks it in his mouth.

“I’m not a native speaker though. I’m barely conversational.”

“Yeah, but I’m really working with scraps here. If I can walk into court and say my name without accidentally cursing everyone out, then that’s good enough for me. By the way, how do I write my name?”

“I don’t know. Your name doesn’t exist in Xingese. You’ll have to find someone fluent to translate it.”

Ed groans. “I hate not knowing things.”

“I’m aware.”

At the very least, Ed pays for breakfast. Roy is already ten minutes late for work, but when Ed asks him for directions to the Xingese consulate, Roy decides he might as well walk him over since it’s only a couple blocks away. And since Roy is acquainted with the diplomat, Mr. Gao, it’d be a decent courtesy to introduce them.

Unfortunately, Gao has little more luck than Roy. After Ed handed him the letter he stared at it under the light with his brow clenched in an expression of pure bewilderment, at which point Roy began to wonder if Ling had written the letter in complete gibberish just to ruin Ed’s day. But no, Gao insisted it was indeed Xingese, he just couldn’t make out a word of it, and clearly felt embarrassed about it. He specializes in economics and political relations; he can tell you the conversion rate down to the cenz and recite every tariff from memory, but he’s woefully ignorant when it comes to art and culture. For that matter, he can barely even read Amestrian calligraphy. But to make up for his lack of insight, he refers them to one of his old professors at the university. He tells them that if anyone in Amestris can translate it, he’s the man for the job.

Roy is far too invested in this saga now to abandon it, so he hastily calls up Riza from the consulate’s office to tell her that he’ll be in at some point later in the day, but at the moment he’s dealing with some very pressing diplomatic affairs.

 _“Didn’t you say you were getting breakfast with Edward this morning?”_ she asks, clearly unconvinced.

“Yes, and now we're dealing with some very urgent correspondence from the Emperor.”

Before she can ask any further questions, he hangs up and follows Ed back out onto the street. Roy gives him a lift to the university, and along the way Ed asks for increasingly annoying and obscure translations.

“What’s the Xingese word for steering wheel?” Ed asks.

Roy sighs. “Why on earth would I know that?”

“Okay, how about…. windshield wiper?”

“Shouldn’t you be more focused on learning ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ at the moment?”

“Okay, here’s one I’ll actually use: alchemy.”

“That one I do know,” Roy replies confidently. “It’s liànjīnshì. It’s three characters and it literally translates to ‘the art of smelting metal.”

Ed nods in approval. “Lianjinshi. I like that.”

Roy smiles, not having the heart to tell him he completely butchered the pronunciation.

“Now what’s the word for transmutation?” Ed asks.

“Hell if I know. Why don’t you focus on learning how to buy groceries without getting fleeced.”

They arrive at the university and wander around in search of the building with the Xingese department. The man they’re looking for, Dr. Bai, is in the middle of teaching a class, so they’re relegated to waiting in the hallway outside his office like two wayward undergrads.

Finally Dr. Bai hobbles down the hall. He looks ancient, his back arched and skin spotted with moles. His jacket hangs loose and his hands slightly tremble as he opens his office door. But he lights up when they tell him about their mission, and Roy can tell he’s the type of man who loves nothing more than puzzle.

He inspects the letter closely, his forefinger tracing down the columns. He hums to himself, then stands from his desk and says he’ll be right back. A few minutes later he returns with another old man in tow, and before they know it, the small office is packed with five Xingese academics of various ages all bent over the desk, pulling reference books off the shelves, and loudly conversing in Xingese.

“You getting any of this?” Ed whispers to Roy. They’re both standing in the corner by the window, as it’s obvious they have nothing of value to contribute.

“I can understand maybe every other word, but all together, nothing. I’m not very proficient in high academia.”

After an hour or so they’ve managed to translate a handful of characters, but the contents of the letter remains as elusive as ever. Apparently the style of calligraphy fell out of popularity hundreds of years ago, and the dialect itself might be an artifact of the Second Tang Dynasty. At least they have a couple ledes, but if the finest minds in Amestris’ most prestigious university can’t even crack the code, then they’re almost certainly out of luck.

Roy checks his watch. It’s almost noon, and Riza is probably weighing the pros and cons of tattling on him, but it’s lunchtime anyway, and all this running around has really worked up an appetite. There’s no point returning to the office hungry, so he invites Ed to lunch at a small Xingese restaurant that’s nestled a couple blocks off campus.

Ed accepts the offer with no necessary coaxing, and they walk side by side through the bitter cold with their hands stuffed in their pockets and coats pulled tight. The restaurant is small and cozy with tables set out for no more than ten. There are only about eight options on the menu on any given day, but the quantities certainly make up for the lack of choice. The menu is also exclusively in Xingese, which makes sense since the place is really only frequented by faculty and students from the university, as well as the handful of Xingese families that live in the neighborhood. And since there are no pictures either, it means Ed can do nothing but blankly stare at the menu and hope for the best. He keeps his eyes fixed on it for a long while, as if the translations will simply manifest if he desires it hard enough.

“Are you looking forward to going to Xing?” Roy asks.

Ed sighs, not lifting his eyes from the menu. “Yeah, I guess. Al says the language is a bitch, but he has to get passably fluent before he can even start seriously studying alkahestry. He said it could be a decade before he draws another circle.” Ed is resting his cheek on his knuckles. He’s slouched to the side with his ponytail hanging over his shoulder. It’s getting long and the ends are frayed.

“It’s impossible to be good at everything,” Roy says, keeping his eyes fixed on his own menu, even though he already knows what he wants.

Ed huffs and leans back in his seat. “You know, when I gave up my alchemy, I figured it wouldn’t be that big a deal since there’s so much other shit I could do. But hey, turns out alchemy was the only thing I was any good at.”

Roy smiles. It’s funny to imagine Edward Elric of all people stuck in the middle of a confidence crisis. Turns out Ed’s no different than any other young adult after all.

“You’re good at a lot of thing,” Roy assures him. “You’re just impatient. With alchemy you skipped past all the beginner steps, so now you’re insecure about starting from the basics.”

Ed glares at him, too proud to admit that Roy is right.

“Okay, what are the basics. Where do I start?”

Roy smiles. For once is Ed actually going to take his advice? But before he can so much as teach Ed how to say ‘hello,’ the waitress comes over and asks what they would like. Roy takes the liberty of ordering on Ed’s behalf to spare him the embarrassment, and he has a feeling Ed wouldn’t like half the stuff here anyway. For someone with such a huge appetite he’s always been an insufferably picky eater.

“By the way, can I ask who did the calligraphy on the sign in your window?” Roy asks before the waitress heads back to the kitchen. Roy noticed it on the way in: a beautiful rice paper poster announcing the daily specials. They’ve already worked their way through the diplomats and the academics, so Roy figured calligraphers should be the next logical step.

“Oh, my great-grandmother did that,” she says, clearly excited that someone noticed it. “Her father actually served as a royal calligrapher in the court of Emperor Ming.”

Well, that’s certainly a stroke of luck. Before Roy can say anything more, Ed pulls the letter from his pocket.

“We actually have a letter here from the Xingese court,” Ed says. “We’re trying to get it translated, but haven’t had any luck. You think your great-grandmother might be able to help us? Or if she knows anyone who can?”

The waitress glances at the letter. “She knows a lot of the old styles. She might be able to translate it.”

A smile lights up Ed’s face. Guess they haven’t hit a dead end just quite yet.

The waitress’ name is Yingyun, and after giving the kitchen their orders she leads them to the back hallway and up a narrow flight of stairs. There’s only one door at the top of the steps, and she pounds on it loudly. “太婆！來客人了！”

“What’d she say?” Ed whispers.

“She just said she has guests,” Roy replies.

After a few moments of rustling, the door opens with a loud creak and an impossibly old woman sticks her head out. She’s short, definitely no more than five feet tall, and her features are wrinkled and folded like the letter that’s been stuffed into Ed’s pocket far too many times. She looks between Roy and Ed, then tugs Yingyun down to whisper something in her ear.

“She’s wondering if you’re with the military,” she conveys.

Ed quickly pulls the letter back out of his pocket. “He is, but I’m not,” he answers, shamelessly throwing Roy under the bus. “I just need to find someone who can translate this,” he says, actually speaking in a polite tone for once. “It’s from the Emperor. It’s important.”

Yingyun translate all that back to the old woman. Her eyebrows seem to rise in interest, and she beckons the three of them inside.

The apartment is truly something to behold. The walls are covered ceiling to floor in scrolls bearing calligraphy and paintings that look like they belong in a museum. They make their way to the center of the room where the woman has her supplies laid out on a small table. She takes a seat and raises a hand, and Ed obediently gives her the letter.

Her hands are warped and bony, but perfectly steady as she unrolls the paper. Her eyes must be sharp as well, as there’s no sign that she’s struggling to read it. Then after less than twenty seconds, she does something none of them would have expected:

She starts laughing. A deep throaty laugh that makes her shoulders shake. Then she starts speaking. Her accent is heavy and her voice breathy, so it’s hard for Roy to pick anything up. But then Yingyun begins laughing too.

“She says it’s a list of everything the Emperor wants you to bring when you visit Xing. He wants you to bring several high-quality pastry chefs to work in his court, all the parts to construct an automobile, four printing presses for printing Amestrian books, a hundred bottles of perfume from a shop he likes downtown, several paintings from the National Museum, the best recipe for macaroni and cheese, and–“

“Okay, I get it!” Ed shouts, but the old woman keeps running down the list.

“Oh, and at the end he says, ‘I’m so excited to learn that you are studying Xingese. I’m sure you’re making great progress. I apologize for making this letter so difficult, but I couldn’t resist. PS as payment for all the things I have requested, I’m sure you can sell this letter for a hefty sum. All the best, Ling.’”

Ed is fuming, but Roy is thoroughly amused.

“Can you write him something back?” Ed asks. “Ideally in the same style?”

Yingyun translates this, and the old woman nods in delight. She lays out of a fresh sheet of paper and wets her brush, waiting for Ed’s directions.

“Can you write, ‘Dear Ling, my Xingese is amazing, thanks for asking. No one wanted to buy your letter, but here’s a couple thousand cenz to cover the postage. Sincerely, Edward.’”

The woman’s arm moves fluently as she transcribes the words passing from Ed through Yingyun. And once it's finished she stamps it with a red seal, marking her work. Then she says something back to Yingyun while pointing in Ed’s direction.

“She wants me to tell you that in Xingese your name is Àidéhuá. That’s how she wrote it.”

Now doesn’t that warm Roy’s heart just a little bit. Ed learned exactly two Xingese words today: alchemy and his own name.

“Àidéhuá?” Ed repeats, actually making an effort this time to get the pronunciation right.

The old woman nods, too polite to tell him that the pronunciation is still woefully off, but it’s an improvement.


End file.
